


The Glory of Certainty

by parnase



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls Online
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Fix-It, Flashbacks, Temporary Amnesia, Temporary Character Death, The Colored Rooms, i wrote this for myself tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-01
Updated: 2019-05-01
Packaged: 2020-02-10 20:26:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18667774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parnase/pseuds/parnase
Summary: “Darien,” she breathes. The staff falls from her fingers.Darien blinks. His armour is embellished with accents of gold and red, the Fighter’s Guild armour he used to wear. Imaeya lets out a relieved breath. This was Darien, not the Golden Knight, not Meridia’s vessel.“You're a sight for sore eyes,” he croaks, swaying on his feet.





	The Glory of Certainty

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic in y e a r s. And i primarily wrote it for myself, because it's important to me that I finish it, even if no one reads it or no one likes it. I don't expect anyone to read it, but if you do, i really would appreciate a comment, even if it's just a "nice".  
> Anyway my player character Imaeya is like, the hottest gal, i might drop a pic of her in the story later. She's primarily a PVE Warden Healer, but I've been experimenting with her as a dps atm. If you play eso and wanna chat in game, my username is @musichetta

The Vestige is used to feeling empty. She’s not sure if that’s a symptom of being soulless or a symptom of being a killer, but somewhere down the road she must have spilled out all of herself onto the grass and walked away empty.

She stares down at the book in her hand, the ghost of light still imprinted under her eyelids.

The book is old and Daedric, resting in her hands as though it were crafted to be there. It gives her an unfamiliar feeling of comfort and recognition.

The words are scrawled in handwriting Imaeya had seen an age ago, a world away, in a ruined diary of a Watch Captain.

She can’t tear her eyes away. She sits on the bench and reads them over and over again until the letters are meaningless. Her hand shakes with the effort of holding it up.

_My light, it’s fading._

Imaeya closes the book with a sharp snap that echoes throughout the palace, gently placing the book back on the bench.

She’s used to feeling empty but her stomach is full of all of the emotions she can’t name. They settle in her gut and she wraps her arms around her stomach.

She can hear Razum-dar teasing the Proxy Queen downstairs. Valsirenn had already returned to Artaeum. Leythen was dead. Iachesis was dead. And Darien…

Imaeya snatches the book and strides out of the Palace without a word to anyone, ignoring Raz’s attempt to seduce her into a drink.

The palace doors close behind her heavily. Imaeya takes a deep breath of the fresh air.

Summerset lay before her. All of Nirn lay before her. She stood in a world ripe for the taking, ready for her to do anything, be anything. Save an alliance, doom an alliance. Save someone’s marriage, their daughter, their pet guar, their livelihood.

She takes a few numb steps forward.

Imaeya had saved countless lives, but not the one that mattered. Darien was the one to save _her_ in the end.

She clenches her fingers around the book. She thinks of his smile, his laughter, his _vibrance._ A thousand times the hero she ever was, fading in the light of Meridia’s plane of Oblivion.

As though it has a mind of its own, her hand comes up to unbutton her tunic pocket, and it comes away holding the letter she had found, before she came to Summerset, after she had resigned herself to his death.

_Help me. I want to come home. Please._

 

* * *

 

_Imaeya shoved her way through the chapel door and was met with a knife to her neck._

_In the space of a breath she held her staff against the offender’s stomach and both women stared each other down, daring the other one to make the first move._

_Imaeya took a risky second to stare at the woman’s body, and recognised the Camlorn Guard uniform immediately._

_“Wait!” a man’s voice commanded before she could say anything. “Stand down, Evette. She’s not a cultist.”_

_The guard sheathed her weapon, and if Imaeya expected to see disappointment or relief in her eyes she was let down. Evette had the emotional capacity of a mindless Breton soldier. Imaeya rolled her eyes at her and walked warily to the middle of the chapel._

_The man standing there was a conventionally-attractive Breton with a charming smile and a sarcastic tone of voice. Definitely a military-son. The man Imaeya had been looking for._

_“What brings you to our pleasant little city, Elf? The war? The blood? The thrice-damned werewolves?”_

_Imaeya didn’t miss the sharp inflection on_ Elf _, an unintentional symptom of the ingrained racism of Bretons that’s unavoidable even in the most diverse situations. She narrowed her eyes at the man and took another deliberate step forward._

_The man didn’t step back, but he tensed up noticeably. She held out her hand, showing the room the three small vials of werewolf’s blood. Some of the blood still stained her hands and her armour where she had tried to wipe her hands. She was no stranger to cleaning up blood, however._

_“These are for your alchemist,” she said brusquely. She gave Darien another once-over. “I’m here for your master key.”_

_Darien took the vials gingerly from her hand, his fingertips barely grazing her palm, and she appreciates the deliberate lack of contact._

_“If you’re here to take me to my father, you can get that thought right out of your head. There are beautiful women in Camlorn that still need to be rescued.”_

_Imaeya raised an eyebrow. “Uh… excuse me?”_

_Darien’s smirk dropped off his face, and he adopted an expression of sobriety. “In all seriousness, I’m not doing anything before we find a safe refuge for the civilians hiding in the surrounding buildings. The inn nearby should be defensible enough and it’s full of supplies. There’s just one catch.”_

_Imaeya held back a sigh and considered his words. Most of the time when she’s given a quest she prefers to see it through completely and with little to no distraction._

_She studied Darien closely. He stood with authority, his face set with determination. He was honourable, Imaeya could already tell. He wouldn’t budge on this._

_She let loose her sigh and made up her mind. She may be soulless, but she isn’t_ soulless _. If she has the power to save and protect helpless citizens, she owed it to them to try._

_And if it made Darien get off his high-horse, all the better._

_“What’s the catch?_

 

* * *

 

Summerset gifts Imaeya with complicating emotions. She feels oddly comfortable among the idyllic meadows, coral forests, and stone architecture that rises above her in a clear display of superiority. At the same time, she misses the consistent unrest and cool shade of Valenwood, the forest’s living presence enough to remind her of her own comforting insignificance.

These emotions plague her as she makes her way through Alinor, the stone walls closing in on her and taunting her with the reminder that she is imperfect. She wonders how the other High Elves stand it, being reminded at once that you’re imperfect and superior, just from a few stones and cold stares.

She finds who she’s looking for - though she’s of the opinion that he only allows himself to be found because he has been waiting for her.

She sits down at a table in the outdoor tavern, drawing stares from everyone trying to enjoy a drink for the simple crime of daring to reject her Aldmeri heritage by flaunting Bosmeri armour.

Or maybe she’s drawing stares because of her recent heroics, but she’d rather not dwell on that.

“My friend,” Razum-dar greets, pausing to finish his drink. “This one wondered when he would see you again. Sooner than Raz had guessed, but no matter!” He bares his teeth in an easy smile, and Imaeya finds some of the tension of the past few days melt away in the presence of her oldest friend. “We must drink to our successes, yes? There has been enough time for mourning, and there will be more time tomorrow.”

Imaeya shakes her head, but accepts the tankard Raz pushes across the table at her anyway. “I’m here on business, Raz.”

“Bah! You’re always talking business. It makes Raz’s fur stand on end.” He waves a paw lazily. “Relax, Five-Claw. Wet your paws. This one will send the bill to the Queen’s court.”

Imaeya hides a small smile behind her tankard and takes a tentative sip, before setting it down heavily on the table. “I need your help,” she says softly. “I promise, we will… _carouse_ later.”

Raz sighs and puts his tankard down. “This one wishes you would have a moment of peace, but very well. What do you need?”

“I need to find your friend again, Sadara-do.”

There’s a beat of silence, and Imaeya watches Raz’s whiskers twitch before he shakes his head.

“Ah. Raz knows what you want.” He shifts into a more comfortable position in his seat. “You want to rescue that Golden Knight, yes?”

She takes another sip of her drink, and then another. “Yes,” she answers. She takes a deep breath. “He was the hero, not me. If he hadn’t… If he hadn’t have sacrificed himself to restore the sword, Nocturnal would have won. And people don’t even know his name.” She swallows down on the lump in her throat. “He deserves better.”

Raz leans forward. “What makes you think he is still alive?”

Imaeya draws the book out of her satchel and holds it out to Raz, who takes it from her carefully. His claws barely graze the cover, and he opens it up to Darien’s words.

After a short while, he closes it and hands it back. “This one wishes to be done with Daedric Princes. They make Raz’s tail twitch.” He signals at the barmaid, who tops up their tankards with a strained smile.

Imaeya watches the ale swirl around her tankard. “Will you help me, Raz?”

Raz nods without hesitation. “Of course.” He pauses. “This one remembers pulling you from the shores of Khenarthi’s Roost. That was a long time ago. Back then, Raz used you and did not trust you. Now? Raz is happy to call you a friend.”

Imaeya smiles widely at him. For the first time since she had seen Darien grasping the sword and pouring his light into it until nothing of him remained, she feels more hopeful than not. Raz had a tendency to fill her with confidence.

“Thank you, Raz,” she says sincerely.

Raz waves her gratitude off with a paw. “Sadara-do told Raz she was going to rebuild Meridia’s shrine. This one suggests we meet there. But for now Raz would like to share a drink with a friend.”

 

* * *

 

_Darien’s shout rung out clear and ugent amidst the chaos. Imaeya turned a corner to see him in the graveyard, hunched on the ground while bloodfiends assaulted him relentlessly._

_Her heart stopped, but her feet didn’t._

_“Have at thee, foul creatures!” he exclaimed._

_Imaeya’s chest tightened, and she gripped her staff tighter. She sprinted towards him, his name lodged in her throat. She could only watch as a bloodfiend lunged for his throat, and another one bashed his head with heavy blows. She fired a few shots of lightning from her staff, but they landed a few feet short of the bloodfiends._

_A blinding light emitted from where he was curled behind his shield, and she covered her eyes with her hand. When she blinked the spots in her vision away, she could see the bloodfiends lying motionless a few yards away._

_Imaeya squinted at Darien and watched the light fade from his body. He looked up for a brief moment and it seemed to take all of his strength. He managed to give her an exhausted smile in spite of it all._

_“Well, that’s never happened before.” He made a move to straighten and step towards her before he almost collapsed. “Watch out - behind you!”_

_Imaeya turned just in time to catch the blow of the massive stone gargoyle she had missed in her hurry. She was sent flying back a few feet, whacking her head painfully on a tombstone._

_“Imaeya!” Darien shouted, struggling to pick up his sword while the gargoyle stalked towards her.._

_“I’m okay,” she replied faintly, standing gingerly and grabbing her staff from the ground next to her. She turned to the gargoyle, wincing as her head swum in pain._

_She crouched low to the ground, resting a hand on the earth and drawing from it the whispers of the Green, pulling on a thread of them until the Green gifted her with a spectral bear in a burst of blue light. The bear bounded off to tackle the gargoyle._

_Imaeya summoned the Green’s flora to heal herself and Darien, and it almost took her off her feet.  She swayed in place as her bear distracted the gargoyle, and felt her strength return to her. Darien struggled to his feet and hunched over to take a few breaths. It wouldn’t heal him, but it would lend him enough health to get out of this graveyard alive._

_Darien jumped in front of her just in time to shield a hit that would have been the end of her, and it was enough to snap her out of her daze. She took the opportunity to sprint away from the gargoyle, stopping a safe distance away and readying her staff._

_Darien kept the gargoyle in place while she assaulted it with her magicka, zapping it and summoning the Green to fight for her. It wasn’t a hard enemy in comparison to Angof or the Hound, and she destroyed it within a minute._

_Once the gargoyle was a crumbling mess in the middle of the graveyard, Imaeya rushed to Darien’s side, ready to hold him up if he fell._

_Darien grinned at her, even as he stumbled from exhaustion. “We make a pretty good team, you and I.” His voice was weak but happy, and Imaeya felt a savage kind of pleasure that he lived for the fight just as much as she did._

_She huffed out a laugh and held him up easily. “Only because I do all of the work,” she teased, examining his armour for breaks and wounds._

_He opened his mouth, probably for an indignant reply, before a hideous snarl broke their conversation. He drew his sword out as quick as Imaeya grabbed her staff, and they turn to face the bloodfiend behind them._

_Imaeya cast a quick, risky look at Darien - tired, injured, and sweaty, but still determined, still ready for more._

_Many of her companions fought bravely, and fought well, but were never as powerful as her. She admired them; Lyris, Razum-dar, and now Darien. The forces they fought were infinitely more powerful than them, and yet they stood fast in the face of Daedric Princes and necromantic abominations._

_Darien would gladly lay down his life for his friends and his people. In that way, he was braver than she could ever aspire to be._

 

* * *

 

Imaeya never did learn to hold her alcohol, which leads to her tramping up to Eton Nir Grotto with a mountainous headache and a dry mouth.

Raz’s whiskers twitch when he sees her. “This one expected you hours ago!” he exclaims good-naturedly. “Don’t tell me you are feeling under the weather, my friend?”

Imaeya grumbles back incoherently and restrains herself from making a rude gesture. “Let's just get this over and done with.”

Raz lets her lead, and they make their way through the grotto quietly. Imaeya had vanquished the creatures the Court of Bedlam had sent to do their bidding, but the place still put her on edge, and she finds herself flinching at every echoed noise.

They reach the door, Meridia’s sculpted face sticking out at her tauntingly, and Imaeya pushes the door with more force than was necessary.

Her shrine is brighter than she remembers, braziers furiously blazing and candles stacked at every corner.

A few people murmur in the corner next to Meridia’s looming statue, a couple of others scattered about fixing benches or dusting. She hadn’t expected the cult of Meridia to grow back so quickly.

Imaeya strides towards the Khajiit she’s been looking for. Sadara-do looks up at the sound of her approaching footsteps and twitches her tail.

“Lady Imaeya,” she greets, bowing her head slightly. “What brings you to my Lady’s shrine once again?”

Razum-dar catches up with her and nods to his friend, staring warily at the statue.

Imaeya jerks her head to Meridia. “I need to talk to her. In private.”

Sadara-do shakes her head, and her robed associates disperse. “This one is afraid my Lady isn’t talking to anyone right now. Her shrine is desecrated. Efforts are being made to cleanse it, but she still will not talk to us.” Her ears press flat against her head in shame.

Imaeya crosses her arms. “Of course she won’t,” she mutters under her breath. To Sadara-do, she says, “Is there any way we can help cleanse the shrine?”

Sadara-do pauses. “There is one way… You must have an artifact filled with Meridia’s divine light. Do you still have the Dawnbreaker?”

Imaeya doesn’t answer, but after a long moment she reluctantly pulls the sword from its scabbard and shows it to Sadara, drawing it back when she reaches for it. “I need to know that this will work before I give this to you.”

She stares at the shining gem. It contained Darien’s light. Imaeya knows that it’s technically Meridia’s light, but she can’t help feeling like Darien was shining through that gem as well.

“This one would normally say no. Meridia’s day of summoning has already passed. But she has talked to you before, Walker. She will speak again. You are the wielder of Dawnbreaker, and a Champion of Light. My Lady honours those who serve her.”

Sadara-do gestures to the altar, and Imaeya places the sword on top of it gently, but without hesitation. It _was_ just a sword, after all.

The moment her hand releases the sword, it erupts in a burst of light so bright that she shields her eyes and takes a step back. Sadara-do gasps in ecstacy, and Imaeya can hear Raz’s claws scrape against his sword hilt.

“Well done, mortal,” comes a booming, familiar voice. The statue in front of her glows brightly once more. “I did not expect you to cleanse my shrine, though I suspect you have come here for a different purpose.”

Imaeya lifts her chin and glares steadily at the statue. “I have come for Darien.”

“Darien Gautier is mine,” Meridia replies. “His sacrifice for the purification of the Dawnbreaker has drained him of my light, and soon he will cease to exist.”

“But you can fix him,” Imaeya argues. “He’s your vessel, you can’t just let him fade away!”

A few worshippers gasp in surprise at her argumentative tone with the Daedric Prince.

Meridia laughs, but it’s cold and humourless. “Do not presume to tell me what I can do, mortal. Darien exists only because of the light that fills him. Without it, he will surely fade away. There is nothing I can do. If I return him to Nirn, he will not survive.”

Imaeya had spent the last few days thinking about everything Darien had told her, and everything she knew about Meridia. She doesn’t relent.

“Darien has a mortal father. He doesn’t exist purely on your light. You can make him mortal again. Life and energy is your domain!”

There’s a deafening silence, and Raz shifts his weight uncomfortably. “Perhaps we should stop antagonising the statue.”

“No,” comes Meridia’s voice. “The mortal is right. I _can_ restore Darien to you, whole and human, if that is what you wish. He would cease to be my vessel. However, I don’t see why I should do such a thing that would only benefit yourself.”

Imaeya understands immediately. No one should expect to ask something of a Daedric Prince and not have to pay for it. “What will you ask of in return?” she asks warily.

“Darien Gautier is my vessel. He carried out my Divine Will on Nirn. If I am to give him up, I will need a new vessel.” Imaeya’s blood runs cold, even as a _yes_ forms on her lips.

“The self-proclaimed King of the Sea Elves has used an artifact of mine for centuries to cheat death. I would have you retrieve it from him, and end his blasphemous life. I will then use this artifact to create a new vessel.”

Imaeya lets go of the breath she was holding. She had been ready to hear Meridia request her services, to have Meridia make her the new vessel. She should have known it wouldn’t be that simple, and she’s relieved it wasn’t as much of a sacrifice.

She opens her mouth to accept the quest, but something tightens around her heart and she falls to her knees, hunched over in pain while something inside of her burns.

Meridia’s voice reverberates in her head painfully loud, and she knows what the Prince is saying is for her ears only. “When you defeated Molag Bal, I returned your soul to you, untethered to Mundus. As of now, when you die I will no longer return your soul to your body. No amount of soul gems will save you. Your soul is tethered to Mundus. You have one life, mortal, as it should be.”

Raz pulls Imaeya up, his claws digging into her shoulder. “What is the statue doing to you?” he exclaims, searching her for a wound.

Imaeya stands on shaky legs and grips her restoration staff, feeling the warm powers flow through it and allowing it to soothe her, but it does little to combat the dread filling her bones. “Fine,” she bites out. “I accept your quest.” She glares at the statue, which stares impassively back at her. “But I refuse to do anything until I know that Darien is safe.”

Meridia’s voice echoes through the hall once again, softer this time. “Of course. As a gesture of good will, I will return my knight to you, fully mortal. While this task may seem easier than defeating Molag Bal or Nocturnal, you will not have my help. My knight will no longer be filled with my Light. This is a mortal task, for mortal fates.”

Imaeya stays still for a moment, closing her eyes against Meridia’s stony likeness. She breathes in and holds it, and on her exhale she says, “Okay. I will do as you command.”

There is no answer, and when she opens her eyes, the statue has returned to it lackluster, stony appearance, the only light illuminating it from the sconces behind it.

At once Imaeya feels empty and drained. She lets out a long breath and clutches her chest, where the phantom aches of Meridia’s presence still burns.

She hunches over and takes a gulp of air. She’s mortal again, properly this time. The ground feels steadier underneath her. Her heart beats quickly with fear.

One blow out of place, one unseen arrow, and she will take her last breath.

“Raz thinks that went rather well. We just have to kill an enemy of the Dominion, yes? Like every other Tirdas.”

There’s a blinding flash of light behind them, and Imaeya whirls around, her hand drawing out her staff in the same motion and holding it in front of her.

A man stands there, hunched over with shaking shoulders, drawing in deep breaths. He looks up, his face covered in shadow, and Imaeya swallows down her confusing emotions and lights the end of her staff.

It illuminates his face, his painfully blue eyes and rugged stubble. He lets out a deep breath and gives her a shaky smile.

“Darien,” she breathes. The staff falls from her fingers.

Darien blinks. His armour is embellished with accents of gold and red, the Fighter’s Guild armour he used to wear. Imaeya lets out a relieved breath. This was Darien, not the Golden Knight, not Meridia’s vessel.

“You're a sight for sore eyes,” he croaks, swaying on his feet.

 _His voice._ Something in Imaeya’s chest aches with some emotion she can’t identify.

She rushes forward to hold him up, her fingers grasping at his shoulders. She frames his face with her hands and searches it for something she can't name. Her eyes eat him up as though it were the first time she’s seen him, and the last time she would.

He stares back at her steadily, before his eyes well up and he scrambles to pull Imaeya into a crushing embrace, dropping his head onto her shoulder.

“I knew you would get me out of there,” he mumbles into her shoulder.

She can feel his shoulders shaking and closes her eyes.

_The Hollow City was just that. Devoid of any bustling or chattering that featured in cities on Nirn. Music, though played in the streets, never echoed far through the city. The walls were an oppressive reminder of the dangers they protected the city from. The howling wind dampened spirits and cooled down warm hearts._

_The Hollow City was also marginally too cold, and Imaeya knew her armour was too thin to warm her. She wrapped an arm around her exposed stomach and pushed the door to the Fighter’s Guild open._

_The Fighter’s Guild was the only place in the city with any cheer. Not even the tavern was warm and cozy like the guildhall, and it eased Imaeya’s anxieties immediately._

_She found Darien sitting on a bench upstairs, glowering at Valorone over his tankard of ale._

_Imaeya nodded at Holgunn, who raised his tankard in greeting, and sat beside Darien._

_“I was hoping to find you here before the war council,” she said quietly, conscious of Darien’s dark mood._

_Darien didn’t look at her, but he sighs and takes a long drink. “This place could do with some music. Maybe some dancing ladies.”_

_Imaeya gently took the tankard and swirled the ale around. “I can dance,” she offered. “Terribly, of course, but it will still be entertaining.”_

_She saw his lips turn up in a half-hearted smile and counts that as a win._

_He leaned back into the bench and stared into the fire. “Why aren't you freaking out?” he asked. “We're in Coldharbour, up against a_ Daedric Prince _, and you're not fazed.”_

_Imaeya froze for a moment, her mouth open and ready to tell Darien all about her adventures in Coldharbour. She had never told anyone before, because it was too big to give to one person. Most people wouldn’t believe her; those that did would never look at her the same way._

_She shrugged. “I have hope,” she said simply. She thought of the Prophet’s relentless faith in her. “It’s my destiny to defeat Molag Bal.”_

_Darien’s head whipped around to look at her, and she met his eyes steadily. “What do you mean, your destiny?” he asked warily._

_She took another sip of the ale and tried to gather her scattered thoughts._

_“Yeah. I…” She sighed and put the tankard on the table next to them, scratching the back of her neck awkwardly. She had never told the story, and she wasn’t sure how to._

_“I’ve never told anyone about this before,” she started, glancing at Darien’s confused curiosity before staring into the flames. The truth made her mouth dry and she grabs the tankard again._

_“What is your earliest memory?”_

_Darien frowned in confusion. “I don’t know… getting told off by my father for eating some strange berries. Why?”_

_“My earliest memory is of the necromancer Mannimarco sacrificing my soul to Molag Bal two years ago.” Darien tensed beside her and she was made acutely aware of where their shoulders touched. “I woke up in a cell in Coldharbour. No memory of where I had come from, of who I was.”_

_She stopped because she had no idea how to continue. Darien was silent next to her, but when she looked at him, he looked as though he wanted to say something._

_“When Mannimarco stole my soul, he took my past with it. I don’t remember who I was before Coldharbour. I don’t remember my real name…“_

_A strangled laugh came from Darien and Imaeya looked down at her hands. “Wait,” he started, his voice strained. “How are you walking around without a soul?”_

_Imaeya stared at the flames of the fire in front of them. “I don’t know. I don’t think it really affects me, except… I can’t really die. Not permanently.”_

_Darien sucked in a breath. “That’s…  I don’t even know how to process that.”_

_She clenched her hand into a fist. “I’m going to get it back, Darien. I’m going to fight Molag Bal and I’m going to win.” She wondered if she was really as confident as she sounded._

_“How are you going to win against_ Molag Bal _?”_

 _She shook her head. “It’s not important,” she answered. “And it’s a very long and complicated plan. It won’t help us in the coming war, Darien.” She looked at him intently. “But you need to trust me - he_ can _be defeated. Don’t despair, there’s always hope.”_

_Darien stared back at her with wide eyes. “Yeah, I’m starting to see that.”_

_She gave him a small, tentative smile. “And we still haven’t caroused yet.”_

_He took the tankard from her and smiled into it, finishing the ale in one long drink. “I don’t know about you, but I’m not sure Coldharbour is the best place to carouse.”_

_“Where do you want to go?”_

_He shrugged. “Maybe somewhere in Skyrim. I’ve always wanted to get into a drunken brawl with a Nord.”_

_Imaeya laughed and it echoed through the hall, drawing a few stares. “It is quite fun,” she admitted. “But I think after this I might give the fighting a rest. If I can.”_

_Darien shook his head. “Imaeya, you’re a magnet for trouble. Or for hopeless causes.”_

_“Which one are you, then?”_

_He grinned, all traces of his foul mood gone. “Oh, I’m most certainly both.”_

 

* * *

 

Shimmerine cuts an imposing figure in Imaeya’s view. She watches the adventurers and merchants leave and enter the city. She can hear the buzz of city life, indignant Altmer voices, traders peddling their wares, dogs barking. She closes her eyes and leans back onto her hands, her legs stretched out before her, basking in the easy sun and bird-calling.

“You almost look like you belong here,” Darien notes from beside her. She opens her eyes and turns her head to look at him.

He’s radiant in the sunlight behind him, and it makes her uneasy. The light that illuminated his dark hair into a light brown, that glinted off his armour, was too close to Meridia’s light.

Darien tips his head up and closes his eyes. He looks warm and rested, and Imaeya’s anxieties drift away.

“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment,” she replies quietly, turning back to stare at the city. “I’m also not sure if it’s true or not. I almost _feel_ like I belong here.”

They stay silent for a while. Imaeya had a million things she wanted to say to Darien, but now he’s here her courage has deserted her. She wanted to yell at him for being so selflessly heroic, she wanted to tell him how his absence ate away at her until she felt hollow.

Now, all she wants is to be with him for a while.

“So,” he starts, his tone apologetic, “what do we do now?”

Imaeya keeps her eyes on the city, even though she can feel his eyes on her. “What do you want to do?” She knows it’s a loaded question.

Darien pauses for a moment. “While I was in the Coloured Rooms, all I could think about was coming back to Nirn and doing all these things I had never done. Go to places I’d never been, meet my heroes, eat new food.”

Imaeya meets his eyes. “Where do you want to start?”

His smile is as disarming as it is charming. Once, it made Imaeya roll her eyes. Now it steals her breath. She straightens and looks away.

“I want to take you out for that drink.” His tone is light and teasing, and she scoffs.

“With what money? I’ll be taking _you_ out for a drink.”

“Even better.”

Imaeya looks at him. He’s got a stupidly wide grin on his face, and his eyes hold a sincerity that makes her blush. She shakes her head, but can’t stop a small smile from reaching her lips. She draws her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them, resting her chin and staring down at the wayshrine.

“I knew it would be you,” Darien says. His voice is low and intimate, and everything in her wants to look at him, but she keeps her eyes lowered. “You’ve never let me down, Imaeya. I… You’ve given me everything.” He turns his body to face her. “What can I do to repay you?” he asks softly, his eyes scanning her face.

Imaeya stares back at him. Her breath eludes her for a moment. She wraps her arms tighter around her knees. “Darien,” she starts gently. “You deserve more than rotting in a plane of Oblivion. You deserve more than being some Prince’s pawn.” She looks over the land that stretches under them. “You deserve to come back home.” Something in her chest aches with the weight of her words.

Darien hears the words that she can’t say. “You don’t have a home.”

Imaeya shrugs.

Darien snatches her hand before she can react. “Come back to Glenumbra with me,” he says.

She stares at his hand, large and warm, holding her hand steady. “What?” She stares back at him in confusion.

Darien squares his shoulders. “Or anywhere,” he amends. “We can make you a home, Imaeya. You of all people deserve one.”

She pulls her hand back reluctantly. “You… I’m not meant to have a home, Darien. That’s the point of all of this. I’m meant to travel, to help people, and then move on to find more people to help. I’m not meant to settle.”

Darien shakes his head in frustration. “Why shouldn’t you? Don’t you want a home? A family?”

Imaeya clenches her fist at the icy grip on her heart. Her baby gryphon soars down the hill and looks up at her expectantly. “I have a family, Darien,” she says tiredly. “I just don’t remember them.”

He settles back into the grass and is silent for a while, for which Imaeya is grateful for. She snaps her fingers and her gryphon bounds up the hill, nipping her fingers lightly and squawking at Darien.

“That’s what I want to do first,” he says after a while. His voice is hardened with stubborn determination. “I want to find your family.”

“Darien-”

“My friends! Raz’s mission was a great success!” Raz exclaims from behind them. Imaeya jumps and stands up hurriedly. Darien does the same, less gracefully.

“You know where the Maormer king is?”

Raz shakes his head. “Such surprise. Raz is offended that you doubted him.”

“You were gone for barely an hour,” Imaeya points out.

“This one is a spy, Five Claw. That requires Raz to be good at gathering information. Now, are we going to stand around and sharpen our claws, or are you going to listen to what Raz has to say?”

Imaeya bows her head in apology. “I’m sorry Raz. What did you find out?”

“The Queen has Eyes all throughout Shimmerine. Many had been stationed in Auridon before the Queen sent them here in light of recent events. Raz talked with one such agent, who told him that the Maormer have been sighted near Firsthold.”

“But Firsthold is Auridon’s first defense against naval invaders,” Imaeya points out. “Surely they would be able to run off a Sea Viper fleet.”

Raz shrugs. “Normally, Raz would agree with you, but that witch Estre dealt a blow to the naval defenses of the city when she occupied it. Rilis has done the best he can, but this one doesn’t think Firsthold stands a chance against a Sea Viper attack.”

“Brilliant,” Darien quips. “If an entire city can’t beat the Maormer, how are we meant to?” Before anyone can reply, he shakes his head. “Don’t answer that. I know I won’t like the answer.”

Imaeya brushes her hair out of her eyes and bites her lip thoughtfully. “Do you have a plan, Raz?” she asks hopefully.

“Did you really expect Raz to have come up with the plan in the ten minutes it took for this one to find you? Because yes, Raz has a plan.”

Imaeya grins despite herself. She and Raz have gotten into some hairy situations and emerged intact. There’s no one else she’d rather have with them.

“Let's hear it then,” she challenges.

 

* * *

 

_Imaeya gritted her teeth in anger as they made their way through Mephala’s realm. She summoned a cliff racer to attack a scorpion before whipping fire from her staff. It went down with a squeal and she carried on._

_“Mephala won’t leave something as valuable as Meridia’s Golden Knight unprotected,” Valsirenn noted needlessly._

_“His name is Darien,” Imaeya snapped. She’d been on edge since Meridia uttered his name._

_She had almost given up hope, the sense of purpose Summerset was giving her was a mere distraction._

_And the whole time Meridia had him tucked away somewhere. Meridia, who was meant to be the benevolent one, the one Prince Imaeya had admired._

_She made her way through the Skein’s castle in a blaze of frost and fire, her anger making her reckless enough to come away with a few injuries that she would have otherwise avoided._

_Imaeya dispatched the guard in the doorway and the moment his body fell to the ground, she sees him. Trussed up to the wall with webbing, only his head free. She vaguely wondered why him of all people would have his mouth free to talk._

_She was too far away to see his expression, but some savage pleasure alighted in her when she heard him say, “You’re about… to regret this.” His voice was pained but triumphant. She had forgotten what it sounded like._

_It wasn’t a fair battle. Imaeya usually felt guilty when her battles lasted less than a minute long, but in this case she barely gave the cooling corpses of those monsters a second look._

_“I tried to warn them,” Darien managed. She didn’t answer. She didn’t trust her own words._

_Imaeya reached into her pocket and brought out the Dawnstar gem. She held it up, the bright light burning away the webs and filling her with unknown frustration._

_Darien dropped to the ground, somehow landing on his feet. Imaeya strode to his side and held him up anyway, feeling nothing but the cold of his armour. She was fully aware that she was staring while he caught his breath._

_“Took you long enough,” he said. “I expected this rescue hours ago.” Normally, his words would have filled her with annoyance. But now, she wanted nothing more than to hear his voice, whether he was complaining with ingratitude or not. She dropped her arms when he stood up straight, but couldn’t step away._

_“Your gratitude has a hollow ring, knight,” Valsirenn retorted. She stared at him unimpressed, with all the haughtiness of a powerful Altmer._

_“Oh I can be very grateful, my lady,” Darien said, his voice smooth despite his state. Imaeya opened her mouth to say something, but nothing comes to mind. She wanted to reach out and touch him again, she wanted to hit him, she wanted to hold him. She wasn’t used to wanting_ anything _._

_“Maybe we should just leave him,” Valsirenn muttered. “I’m sure the Ritemaster would understand.”_

_“No.” Imaeya’s voice was powerful and decided, and it finally gets Darien to look at her. His eyes - she didn’t remember them being so blue, and she wanted to get a closer look, but instead she took a step back._

_“Well, this is awkward. You’re probably wondering how your old friend Darien became Meridia’s champion and got stuck in all this sticky webbing. It’s a funny story, really. Probably better if I wait to tell it until after we escape from this realm.”_

_Imaeya swallowed down hard on all of the questions that rose up unbidden. “You’re the Golden Knight?” she asked, rather dumbly._

_“Guilty as charged! Meridia sent me to offer my assistance, but those other Princes, they kept interfering. And then I was dragged into this pit of spider harlots,” he muttered. “Look, we can catch up on things later. Right now, we_ really _need to get out of here.”_

_Imaeya shook her head free of all of the thoughts she was stuck in and drew her staff. “You’re right. Let’s get out of here,” she answered, already turning for the exit._

_“We can’t just walk through a door to get back to Tamriel,” Darien argued. “Believe me, I tried!” He narrowed his eyes. “How did you find me, by the way? Mephala said she was putting me someplace no one would ever think to look.”_

_Imaeya looked around the castle doubtfully, before glancing back at Darien. He stared back at her with a guarded expression._

_“I’ve been searching for you for a long time, Darien,” she said finally. It was such a simple sentence for how his loss has hurt her and consumed her, but she let it stand._

_Darien gave her a slow smile, and it made her breathe easy. “I knew you wouldn’t abandon me! Not after everything we’ve been through. Maybe now we can…” His smile disappeared. “No, let’s save that for after we save the world.”_

_Imaeya gave him a small smile in response, thinking back to when he first promised to get her a drink, and all the times since._

_“As happy as you’ve made me,” he continued, “you need to know something. I’m in no condition to fight at the moment.”_

_Imaeya grips his shoulder. “Stay close to me,” she said. “I’ll get you out of here.”_

_His blue eyes stared back with some unusual sobriety that caught her off guard and she stared back for a moment before Valsirenn started walking away._

_And for the remainder of their time in Mephala’s sticky realm, Imaeya kept one eye on her golden-clad friend, and fought with more determination than she’d had in a while._

 

* * *

 

The ruins of Castle Rilis stands before them, regal and broken, an intimidating structure with more history than they care to know about. Imaeya jumps down nimbly from the staircase pillar and wipes her pants down.

“Did you see anything?” Darien asks anxiously. Raz leans against an archway behind him, studying his claws.

Imaeya shakes her head. “Not yet. Give me a moment.”

She crouches down and rests one hand on the ground, feeling the earth and reaching out to the Green. The Green rises up to meet her, its whispers filling her head, eager to tell her stories about the land she stands on.

She allows it to take her over for a while, her white eyes clouding over as she sees with the Green’s eyes, feels what the Green feels.

Thudding footsteps reverberating through the sand above the roots of ancient tree. The Green’s whispers were louder there, eager to tell her the stories and sacredness of the place the Maormer now made their camp.

She flinched at the volume and drew back, slowly lifting her hand and blinking the Green from her eyes. For the moment her vision is completely dark; the blindness is disconcerting but only lasts for a while.

There’s a hand on her arm and she grabs onto it for balance. The contact comforts her more than she would admit.

“They’ve made camp on the far side of the island. At the sight of Nine Prow Landing.” Her sight returns gradually, and she blinks to try and speed up the process.

“How did you do that?” Raz asks curiously.

Imaeya shakes her head in a wordless explanation. She doesn’t think she could make them understand. They haven’t heard the whispers of the Green, or felt its presence within them.

“How many are there?” comes Darien’s steady voice.

“Fifty onshore. I don’t know how many in the water. We need to move quickly.” She looks at Razum-dar, who quickly comes into focus as her eyesight is restored. “I think they’re going to attack soon.”

Raz nods solemnly and draws a small pot of paint out from his pocket. “This is for you. Raz is keeping the earring for himself. This one thinks the Maormer might notice if one of their own is so handsome, or has a tail.” He glances at Darien. “Darien will have to wear full armour.”

Imaeya takes the pot and opens it, dipping her hand into the paint and wiping it across her face. Her eyes - while a startling and somewhat unnatural white - weren’t unnatural enough to pass for Maormer eyes, so she would just have to hope they didn’t look too closely. It was beginning to darken anyway.

She makes a move to dip her fingers in again, but Darien’s hand darts out and grabs hers, before snatching the pot and dipping his own fingers in it.

“You’re not doing a very good job,” he murmurs, standing close enough for her to be able to feel his warm breath on her skin. It makes her shiver, but she finds she can’t take her eyes off of his, studying her face with a furrowed brow and fixing her mistakes, his fingers warm and gentle as they glide across her skin. His touch is careful and calculated, as though she were made of porcelain he didn’t want to break, and it was making her come undone.

Imaeya’s breath stutters when his fingers press into the space behind her jaw, and she tilts her head up automatically. Darien stops what he’s doing and his blue eyes meet hers.

She feels as though she should say something to break the tension, but all she can manage is another breath.

“Imaeya,” he says softly, his low voice filling her with reckless emotion.

She’s filled to the brim with so much want, so much _need_ , that it scares her. She stares at his lips and she knows that closing the gap is taking a step she had never let herself take.

Imaeya leans forward. Their noses brush. And then Darien’s hand comes up to hold her jaw, his fingers cold with paint, and he leans forward to kiss her.

Imaeya kisses him back. It’s an inevitable conclusion. Darien buries his other hand in her hair and kisses her gently, as though they have all the time in the world, as though he wants to savour what he’s wanted for so long.

She lifts her shaky hands to rest on his shoulders. She desperately wants to pull him closer, but she gently pulls away.

They stare at each other for a moment. She doesn’t dare look down at his lips, but his eyes are smiling and it makes Imaeya quiet and happy.

“Darien…”

“This one curses every choice he made that lead up to this moment,” Raz mutters behind them.

Imaeya takes a reluctant step back. Darien has some paint on his face, and she wipes it off gently, studiously ignoring the gentle look in his eyes.

Instead of saying something that would make Imaeya come apart, instead of kissing her again or - Divines forbid - wanting to _talk_ about it, Darien sets about fixing the paint on her face with a small, happy smile.

Once he’s finished, he steps back and grins. “You look… well, I don’t want to say _good_ , but you look like one of them.”

Imaeya pulls a face and tugs at her armour mournfully. “We should get moving. The Maormer are avoiding Castle Rilis because of the skeletal guardians, so we can cut through there. Just… don’t touch anything. I don’t want to have to fight an entire army of undead.”

 

* * *

 

_Imaeya crossed her arms and tried resolutely to look into Darien’s eyes, not at his half-naked body. It was harder than she thought it would be, funnily enough._

_“What did you want to talk about?” she asked, even though she already knows._

_He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “This might sound like a strange question. In fact, depending on how you answer it, it_ is _a strange question.” He paused, and Imaeya gestured for him to continue. “Do you - do you remember me? I’m not talking about here in Summerset. I mean - from someplace else.”_

 _Imaeya softened her gaze. “Oh, Darien… of_ course _I remember you.” She shook her head. “I thought we lost you in Coldharbour,” she said quietly. “I’m glad to see we didn’t.”_

_Darien stared down at his feet. “Yeah, it was terrible. One moment I’m fighting Molag Bal and the next I’m stuck in the Coloured Rooms without any kind of explanation.” He looked back up at her sincerely. “I tried everything I could think of to get out of there, but nothing worked until Meridia gave me this mission.”_

_Imaeya clenched her fist, the only noticeable sign of her anger towards Meridia. That she would take a man away from his loved ones without warning, and use him for her own inexplicable plans was abhorrent, and not wholly unexpected from the Lady of Light._

_“Fixing the Dawnbreaker was surprisingly easy, by the way,” Darien continued. “Especially considering that I never repaired a Daedric artifact before.”_

_Imaeya studied him for a moment longer before sitting cross-legged on the ground in front of him._

_“What does Meridia want you to do, Darien?” she asked softly._

_“Help you,” he answered simply. “She talked about you a lot, as a matter of fact.” He grinned at her, as charming as she had remembered, and she ducked her head. “We’ve already stopped one Daedric Prince together, right? How hard can it be to stop three?”_

_His sarcastic enthusiasm prompted a smile from Imaeya. “Mara’s heart, I missed you, Darien,” she admitted._

_Darien stared at her for a moment and she returned his gaze. “Something is different about you this time. I don’t remember too much from before, but I remember you well enough.”_

_Imaeya clicked her fingers and her baby gryphon bounded out of the bushes to settle under her hand. “I found my soul. Meridia gave it back to me, actually.”_

_His smile was bright and brilliant, and Imaeya couldn’t look away from it. “That’s great! Wait, is that great?” He frowned. “Doesn’t this mean you don’t come back? When you die, that is.”_

_Imaeya shrugged. “No. I still come back. I think…” She hesitated for a moment, putting her thoughts into words for the first time since she defeated Molag Bal. “I think Meridia keeps…_ allowing _me to return. I don’t know, maybe it’s someone else. Someone wants me to keep fighting.” Her quiet voice must have betrayed her unease, because Darien’s brows pulled together with concern._

_“So Meridia’s using both of us? That’s not a particularly encouraging thought.”_

_Imaeya looked up at him. “Did she tell you anything?”_

_He shrugged. “She only ever told me I was her vessel. I can’t say I remember volunteering for that job, though. I have her magic inside me. I’ve had it all my life. I can feel it. But why?” He sighed. “I have so many questions.”_

_Imaeya raised an eyebrow. “Such as?” she prompted._

_Darien leans back. “Who I am?_ What _I am? Why the amazing good looks and roguish charm if I’m just here to stomp on Meridia’s enemies?” Imaeya rolled her eyes, but he continued. “I mean, I guess if I was Prince, I’d want a dashing champion, so I can’t blame her for that.”_

_Imaeya shook her head in amusement. “I think she keeps you around for your shining personality,” she said wryly._

_It startled a laugh out of Darien and he leaned forward, closer to her. If she spent too long looking at how his muscles tensed, that was her business._

_“Do you always walk around strangers half-dressed?” she teased, leaning back._

_Darien pretended to look indignant. “Hey, I got stabbed a bunch, remember? You can’t examine battle wounds with your armour on.” He shot her a grin. “Besides, the sea air is good for the skin. Ask anyone.”_

_Imaeya bit her lip and studied him with more brazen openness than she knew was good for her. “I could get used to this,” she muttered. She looked up at Darien as soon as she said it, feeling incredibly off-balance despite being firmly planted on the ground._

_Her gryphon squawked and flies off behind her, and suddenly she had nothing to do with her hands._

_If Darien was surprised, he did a good job of hiding it. “I’ll try not to distract you too much until after we’ve saved this world,” he said smoothly. “After that? I don’t have any plans if you don’t.”_

_Imaeya knew her cheeks were flushed red, and she gave Darien a small smile before looking down at her lap. In her periphery, she saw his smile grow wider._

_She remembered the moment they had in the Hollow City, where it was just Darien Gautier and not the Golden Knight of Meridia, where she had told him things she had never wanted to tell anyone before. She looked up at the version of Darien in front of her; inexplicably different, but he made her feel the_ same _. He knocked her off her feet, caught her off guard, made her feel as though she was missing something important and he held all the cards. But most of all, he made her feel comforted in a way that only true friends know how to do._

 _“The Earl of Nocturnal…” she started. “I know her. I_ knew _her.” She looked up at him. “She was my friend. I helped her, or I tried to - I never imagined she would become this.”_

 _Darien straightened up. “Wait - you_ know _Nocturnal’s Earl?”_

_Imaeya nodded miserably. “She was an innocent girl once,” she told him quietly. She looked up at him. “I’m not going to let anyone else down, Darien. There’s enough blood on my hands.”_

_“It’s not your fault, Imaeya,” Darien said insistently._

_“It_ is _my fault,” she snapped. “I had the chance to kill her and I didn’t.”_

_Darien reached out, his large hand covering her shoulder easily and pressing a comforting weight on it. “No, it’s not. You couldn’t know what she would become. Nocturnal would have found an earl regardless.” He gave her a sad smile. “If there’s anything I’ve learned, it’s that life is too short for regrets. Well, actually, I think I’m going to live forever, and you’re an Altmer that can’t die, but my point stands.”_

_Imaeya reached a hand up to cover his, and she gave him an earnest look. “Just… promise me you’ll be careful, Darien. I can’t lose you again. I won’t.”_

_Darien gave her another charming smile. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily, sweetheart. One day we’ll get to that tavern and have that drink. No Daedra, no Princes. Just us. I promise.”_

_Imaeya flattened her ears against her head and looked away, dropping her hand. There was a gnawing emptiness in her stomach that could be hunger, but she just ate. She felt a_ want _, a longing for something, but she had no idea what._

 

* * *

 

They cross the wooden bridge as quietly as they can manage. Once they reach the island, Imaeya kneels down and touches the ground again, feeling for the Green. She doesn’t go as deep this time, just enough to hear the Green whisper the locations of scouts. _The Maormer are tense,_ the Green tells her. _They’re gearing for war._

They make it through an archway to the main courtyard just as the sun sets, and Imaeya finds comfort shrouded in the shadows. She touches Darien and Raz’s shoulders and jerks her head to the left.

They sneak through a broken archway and Imaeya summons her blade, its unholy weight uneasy but familiar in her hands. There are five Maormer, two staring past the shore, one sleeping, and two staring up at Firsthold.

Imaeya glances over and sees Darien and Raz with their blades already drawn. Raz nods, and Imaeya moves silently. In one sweep she slices the back of a Viper’s knees. He goes down and she stands to stab his chest through once, twice, before slitting his throat. The whole thing goes down with minimal noise, but the Viper beside him startles. Too late to save his friend, but he draws his bow, levelling it at her.

Imaeya flings the blade with practiced precision and it sticks in his throat. He loosens an arrow just before he goes down and Imaeya dodges at the last minute, feeling it snick her ear.

She looks over to where Darien was standing over a dead body, Raz struggling with another Viper. She scans the area for the third Viper, the one that was sleeping, and inches closer to her companions.

She sees her creeping behind Darien, her blade out and held ready to strike. Imaeya darts forward and grabs her legs, pulling them out from under her. Her blade glances off Darien’s armour and he whirls around, just in time to see Imaeya summon her blade and strike the Viper in the small of her back.

“Mara’s hands!” he yelps, stumbling back. Imaeya gets to her feet and catches her breath for a second. Raz is already looting the Viper he took care of.

Darien studies her warily. “You’re.. really good at that,” he says. Imaeya doesn’t think it’s a compliment.

She crouches down at the body near his feet and starts stripping it of armour. “It’s a skill I use when I need to, Darien,” she explains quietly. “I’m not proud of it.”

Darien doesn’t answer, and Imaeya looks up to see him picking up a discarded helmet and trying it on. It doesn’t fit, and Imaeya pulls the helmet off the Viper she’s looting.

“Here.” She tosses it to him and he barely catches it, fumbling slightly before sliding it onto his head. It fits perfectly.

She stares down at the Viper. Her eyes cold and lifeless - though they were before she found herself dead - her face permanently frozen in an expression of abject hatred.

Imaeya feels no remorse. The Maormer were the first enemy she ever overcame on Nirn that she remembers, and from the first moment she saw one, she felt the same disgust and hatred they felt for her.

Once they’re armoured up, they move more confidently through Castle Rilis, warily passing skeletons that merely saluted them, and eventually made it to the camp.

Raz drags them behind some shrubbery, and they watch the scene unfold.

The Vipers were sharpening swords and yelling at each other - nothing out of the ordinary, except they were all donning armour and stretching.

“Evidently the Eyes of the Queen are not doing their job,” Raz whispers. “They should have been driven off long before they thought of invasion.”

“What is this place?” Darien asks quietly, gesturing at the altar in front of them and the dead troll in front of it.

“This is Nine Prow Landing,” Imaeya replies. “Where the Aldmer first landed in the Archipelago.” She gestures to a somewhat soggy piece of paper on the ground next to a bedroll. “It says so right there.”

“The High Elves believe this site to be sacred,” Raz explains. “Raz is sure the Maormer chose this place deliberately.”

Imaeya lets out a steeling sigh and stands. “Time to foray, I guess.”

“A rousing speech,” Darien says sarcastically.

“You should let me do the talking.” She hesitates for a moment. “High Elves are more… adept at condescension and haughtiness.”

Darien lets out a laugh. “Can I quote you on that? Please?”

Imaeya rolls her eyes and draws her staff out, gripping it tightly for a moment before loosening her fingers and stretching them out. She uses her staff to point at the ship anchored close to shore, the size and intricacies of the design a clear sign that it’s Orgnum’s ship.

“Those two scouts at the boarding plank of the ship will be able to compromise my cover,” she says. They watch as the scouts peer at a Viper before allowing him to board the ship. “So we’re going to have to take them out quietly. Raz and I can do that. Once we’re on board, you’re both going to need to start a fight and distract the crew members while I sneak into the captain’s quarters.” She takes a deep breath. “Once I’m finished, I’ll join you and we can fight our way out of there. You just need to hold out until I’ve finished with Orgnum.”

“What if you can’t defeat the Maormer king?” Raz asks. At Darien’s glare, he adds, “Not that this one doesn’t believe in you, but he is very powerful.”

Imaeya pauses for a moment. “If I die, get out of there,” she says simply. “But failure is not an option. Orgnum _will_ die by my hand.”

Darien reaches out and grabs her arm. “Imaeya-”

She levels him with a look. “Darien, trust me, okay? This plan is flawless.”

“That’s not how I would describe it,” he mutters. “Why don’t we just walk up and ask him if he’ll stand there and let us stab him with the pointy ends of our swords?”

“Keep talking and you can be the lookout,” Imaeya retorts. She softens her expression and lays her hand on his reassuringly. “After all of this, we can go for a drink. My shout.”

She lets go of him and he reluctantly draws his hand back. “I’d feel a lot better with Dawnbreaker,” he grumbles.

Imaeya tightens her armour straps and taps her staff against a rock, flame shooting out from the end of it. She wishes she could summon her bear, but the Maormer aren’t connected to the Green, they wouldn’t have any wardens in their ranks.

They walk through the camp confidently, and their confidence rewards them with the invisibility they sought. There were no second looks, no questions. Raz had put the earring on, and without a helmet Imaeya could make out his decidedly Maormer features. They disconcert her, so she decides not to look at him.

Darien slips behind them while they walk through the shallows to the boarding plank. They're stopped from boarding by the scouts, one of which grabs Imaeya's shoulder so she can get a better look.

In one smooth motion Imaeya summons her blade and covers the scout's mouth with her hand, plunging her knife where her heart used to beat.

The ship is far away enough from the shore that the camp wouldn't be alerted by the scouts’ absence, but they still had only a few minutes before someone noticed.

There are two guards in front of the captain's quarters, and a few others milling around the deck.

Imaeya opens her mouth to give the order when Darien grabs her shoulder.

“Be careful,” he whispers, drawing his blade. “Just, don't get yourself killed, Imaeya.”

“I'm offended you doubt me,” she replies. She nods to Raz - who she _thinks_ is Raz, and draws her staff.

The guards watch them warily, but they don't do anything until Raz reaches up to undo his earring, his features shifting back into a startlingly furry form.

Imaeya brushes her hair behind her decidedly non-Maormer ears makes for the guards. Their shout alerts the others on board, but Imaeya cuts it short with a blow to the throat with her staff. The guard chokes and she holds the end of her staff against his ribs, sending flames shooting through it.

She uses the other end to whack the second guard in the temple and he goes down instantly. They’re both merely unconscious, so she grabs a sword from one of them and finishes the job with grim satisfaction.

The captain’s cabin is sparsely furnished with a hammock, a dining table, and a desk. There’s a lockbox in the corner and the Maormer king right in front of Imaeya.

She rolls her shoulders loose. “Hello.”

Orgnum stands with his staff already drawn. He looks young, younger than her. His lips are upturned in a cruel smirk. His muscles are relaxed and unimpressed with her intrusion.

“I know you,” he says, his voice high and delicate.

Imaeya shrugs. “Everyone knows me.”

“ _I_ know you. But you don’t remember me, do you? I’m curious,” he says, swinging his staff idly at his side, his hungry eyes on Imaeya. “Why would you come here to kill me, if not for the deaths of your family?”

Imaeya grips her staff tighter. “Excuse me?”

Orgnum smiles widely, his teeth sharp and deadly. “Oh, you don’t remember?”

Imaeya holds up her staff, pointing it directly at his face. “You… _you_ killed my family?” Her hand shakes, and Orgnum takes a step closer.

“I slaughtered them all,” he boasts, his slimy voice making her shiver. “I made you watch. With those big, white eyes, who could forget those?”

Imaeya opens her mouth, but the words are stuck in her throat. She doesn’t want to believe that the key to her past stood before her, a monster she had been sent to kill, but all of her answers lay in a condescending sneer.

She hears a shout - distinctly Darien’s, and distinctly pained. She loosens her grip on her staff.

The Elf in front of her was just another quest to be completed.

Without warning, she swings her staff across her body, firing flame towards Orgnum. Orgnum blocks it with his own staff, and the dance begins.

They weave flame and lightning towards each other with unpracticed fluidity. Imaeya blocks a lightning bolt that makes her stumble back a few feet. Orgnum takes advantage of her falter to thrust a hand upwards, and she barely manages to dodge a bolt of lightning as it strikes where she stood.

She takes a few steps back, Orgnum following quickly and swinging his staff towards her. She blocks it and the reverberations make her bones ache.

“Who signed my death warrant?” Orgnum asks, his voice casual and light, as though they were taking a stroll through a park.

Imaeya grits her teeth and blocks another hit, using the butt of her staff to knock his away. “Who wouldn’t? All of Tamriel hates you,” she snaps. She jabs him in the ribs and he stumbles back.

“I deserve to know,” he replies, his voice strained from her blow. “After I kill you, I would like to pay them a visit.” He holds out his hand, palm facing downwards, and Imaeya watches as three large snakes emerge from the dim light of the cabin. They hiss at her menacingly and she backs away.

Imaeya swings her staff in a wide arc and it catches the snakes, sending them reeling to the back of the cabin. She blocks a lightning blast from his staff just in time, but it still singes her fingertips and she almost drops her staff.

She takes a deep breath and summons what little of the Green is available to her on this ship. The Green readily responds and giant spikes of ice stab through the wooden floor of the cabin. In her next breath she slams her staff down, and fire streams across the room, catching Orgnum’s clothes. He jumps free of her ice and fire, and she takes the brief reprieve to take out the snakes with well-aimed strikes of her staff.

In one smooth motion she strikes Orgnum in the chest with her staff. He stumbles back and draws hissword. Her blood runs cold at the sight of it.

She can’t move quick enough and in one strong swipe, his sword cuts her staff cleanly in two. She stares down in dismay as the magicka drains from her staff, burning her hand as it does so and causing her to drop it.

She kicks him squarely in the stomach and he stumbles back. She spots his staff in the corner of the room and backs away, her eyes on his movements.

Unfortunately, that causes her to trip on a snake, and with a sick drop of her stomach she falls to the ground, the air cast from her lungs.

She blinks once and he’s on top of her, his sword pressed into her throat, his heavy weight on her stomach.

Panic makes her struggle, but Orgnum manages to stay on top of her, leaning in to sneer in her face.

“This time you’re not getting away,” he says in that silken voice of his.

Imaeya moves her head forward and feels the blade press deeper. “Neither are you,” she rasps.

The smile slips from his face slowly, and he looks down at his stomach, where Imaeya’s hand grips the hilt of her dagger.

Orgnum’s face twists in ugly anger, and he presses his blade deeper in her throat. She chokes, but presses her own blade in deeper, twisting it in.

The blade at her throat eases, and she shoves the weight off. Orgnum falls to the ground beside her, unmoving.

Imaeya reaches up to feel her neck with a shaking hand. Her fingers lightly touch the cut. She feels nothing.

She takes a deep breath and sits up. Her head swims, and she closes her eyes against the dizziness. Orgnum’s sword, still gripped by his hand, is sticky to the touch.Poisoned.

She searches his body with shaking hands. Her fingers enter his pockets and come out with a small white crystal ball. It glows faintly in her hand, and the moment she raises it up to peer at it more closely, it vanishes in a bright flash.

It takes all of her energy to stand up and walk outside, and she rests heavily against the door.

The moon casts a harsh light on a harsh scene: Darien is cornered by two Maormer, a third firing arrows from the ship’s wheel that he barely deflects. She can tell, even with the world spinning, that he’s favouring his left side.

Razum-dar isn’t faring much better. He’s fighting three soldiers at once, fully on the defensive and being crowded to the edge of the ship.

Imaeya closes her eyes against another wave of dizziness. There’s nothing. No pain.

She tries to take a deep breath but it stutters and comes out as a wheezed gasp.

When she feels for it, the Green answers, residing deep within her. But it would take all of her strength and magicka to heal herself.

She doesn’t give it a second thought.

Pushing herself off from the door, Imaeya stands tall and listens to the whispers of the Green, pulling her bear from the deck of the ship. The Green fills her with strength and the bear gives a resounding roar before it bounds off to join the fray.

Imaeya’s vision grows dark and she stumbles. Her back hits a wall and she slides down it. She can’t hear much, just snippets of the fighting.

She closes her eyes for a second. The sudden absence of her magicka makes her eyes fly open, just in time to see her bear dissipate into thin air, right in front of Darien.

Darien makes quick work of the soldier left in front of him. Imaeya feels the body hit the ground with a final thud, but she doesn’t look up.

Something soft brushes up against her, and she turns her head with great difficulty to see Razum-dar crouching beside her, his face going through a complicated myriad of emotions that exhaust her upon seeing it.

“Do not speak,” he says solemnly. “Save your strength, Five Claw.”

She shakes her head, the movement pulling at her wound. She still feels no pain.

“ _Imaeya_.” Darien rushes to her side, dropping to his knees and laying his gentle hands on her face. His eyes study her wound with open fragility, and Imaeya can’t look away from him.

“You’re okay,” he says, relief and worry dancing in his voice. “It’s not that deep. We’ll just bandage it up and-”

“No,” she interrupts. “Darien… His blade was poisoned.” The words struggle to leave her mouth, and her voice sounds strangled with the effort.

Darien shakes his head. “It’s going to be fine,” he says desperately, as though he’s trying to convince himself. “You’ll be fine. You always come back, Imaeya.”

Imaeya gives him a sad smile. “Not this time. She.... she tricked me.”

Raz rakes his claws through his fur. His tail swishes back and forth behind him. He holds up a paw in an aborted move to touch her, but drops it after hesitating.

“No, no, no, we can fix this. Imaeya, just tell me what to do.” Darien’s voice is broken with desperation. Imaeya lifts a hand with her remaining strength and holds his arm. “I don’t know what to do.”

She bites her lip but a sob still comes out. “I don’t… I don’t want to die,” she whispers. Her eyes are hot with tears, and she wants to wipe them away but her arms won’t move.

“You won’t,” Raz says vehemently. “We will get help. Firsthold is-”

Imaeya shakes her head again, or tries to. “I… I don’t want to die, Raz. But- It was always meant to end… to end like this.” She touches her throat lightly, letting go of Darien, and he grasps her hand tightly in his. “I… I was never meant to - I’m just a p-pawn.” A laugh bursts from her, but it sounds more like a gasp of pain. “Divines… Daedra… They all - they all used me.”

She opens her mouth to say more but nothing comes out.

“No, it can’t end like this! You can’t… You _always_ come back, Imaeya. Just - Just come back. Come back. _Please_.”

 

* * *

 

_The darkness pressed in closer, robbing Imaeya of her breath and hope. She stumbled and fell to her knees. Her eyes were wide open and saw nothing._

_There was a sudden burst of golden light, and Imaeya raised her eyes up to see Darien radiant with power. She squinted and looked away._

_“We… are not… dying… like this!” Darien gritted out. The Darkness clung to the edges of the room, but Darien’s light kept them back._

_“That worked? I mean… I mean - I mean of course that worked. I just need a moment.”_

_Imaeya stood up slowly, the weight of Nocturnal’s shadows still on her back. She caught her breath and made her way to Darien, every step towards his light easier._

_“Nocturnal’s earl was wrong. Meridia’s power, it’s not gone. Her magic remains strong and vibrant.” He paused to catch his breath. “The vessel. The last Light of Meridia… it’s me.”_

_Imaeya shook her head in confusion. “The vessel? The last Light? What do you mean?”_

_Darien straightened and squared his shoulders. “I finally understand everything Meridia told me. Her power, it’s inside me. And with it I can remove the corruption from Dawnbreaker. I can fill the relic with divine energy again!” His voice was serious and urgent, and something about it filled Imaeya with unease._

_“Sotha Sil said we needed a relic with divine energy to repair the Translucent Law crystal,” she said warily._

_Darien shrugged. “Then this is even better. You can use the restored Dawnbreaker to save the world.” He hesitated. “I just won’t be around to see it happen.” Imaeya shook her head, but he continued. “I finally understand. I’m the vessel of Meridia. Her champion. But_ you’re _the key to stopping Nocturnal and saving reality.”_

_Imaeya clenched her shaking hands into fists. “Darien,” she started, her voice weak. “What are you saying?”_

_He gave her one of those soft, earnest looks. “I’m saying that you’ve got this. Whenever a threat appears,_ you _bring the champions together._ You _find a way to win. And I’ll be at your side for this one final battle, just not in the way I originally expected.”_

_Imaeya shook her head, reaching her hand out. “Darien… what are you doing?” Dread filled her stomach._

_“I’m returning the last of Meridia’s power to the blade so you can stop Nocturnal. I wouldn’t do this for anyone else.” His voice was quiet with certainty._

_“No,” Imaeya protested. She grabbed his hand as he went to reach for the Dawnbreaker. “There has to be another way. Darien, I can’t lose you again.”_

_He shook his head. “There isn’t. This is what I was meant to do all along, Imaeya.”_

_She tightened her grip on his hand. “I just got you back,” she whispered brokenly. She hurt like an exposed wound. Every word he said tore at her. She wasn’t sure if she had the strength to walk through that door and face Nocturnal alone._

_“I need you.”_

_Darien paused for a moment. The Darkness twisted around them tauntingly._

_He pulled her hand and she fell into his strong embrace. She felt the strength in his arms and the cold of his armour, and she held him tighter. She squeezed her eyes shut and pretended they were anywhere but here, with Nocturnal waiting and Darien’s fate in front of them._

_He pulled away, holding her forearms and staring up at her. “I’ll be with you,” he promised. “Just… after all this, pour one out for me.” He gave her one of those sweet, charming smiles and she drank it in, staring at him as though she could commit his face to memory, as though she hadn’t already._

_Darien stepped back and faced Dawnbreaker. “Thank you,” he said, holding the pommel tight. His hands started to glow with Meridia’s Light, and it spread to his whole body. “For everything.”_

_Imaeya watched his Light, even when it hurt, even when her eyes watered too much to see. She stared at the place he last stood, at the Dawnbreaker that now glowed bright with divine energy. When she held out her hand and grasped the hilt, the Light filled her. But she couldn’t feel any trace of Darien._

_He was gone, and she was alone again._

 

* * *

 

Meridia stands in front of her with her hands crossed behind her back, staring at Imaeya with curious eyes.

“You’ve made yourself quite at home, Imaeya,” she notes. “More readily than Darien had.”

Imaeya doesn’t bother glaring, she just stares numbly at the Prince. “If I were able to leave, I would.” She sits up on the bed Meridia has so _graciously_ gifted her. “Why do you need me here, Meridia? Why don’t you send me back to Nirn and do your bidding there?”

Meridia gives her a small shake of the head. “You have not spent enough time here to be imbued with my light. You would not possess the power my vessel should have.”

Imaeya scoffs. “I have plenty of power.”

“Not anymore. When you died, your connection to the Green was severed. Your magicka dispersed back into the fabric of Nirn. Any and all power you held is gone.”

She lies back down on the bed and closes her eyes. “Why do you bother me like this? Just leave me alone.”

“You would have solitude for eternity?” Meridia’s voice is quiet, and if Imaeya knew any better she’d think there’s concern in there.

“My friends think I’m dead. My family is dead. All of Nirn will forget me soon enough.” There’s an ache in her chest made purely of despair, and she doesn’t fight it. “It’s easier to pretend I don’t exist when no one is bothering me.”

“Wallowing doesn’t become you, Imaeya. It won’t do to have my champion so… depressed.”

“Then _send me back home_ !” Imaeya snaps, turning a heated glare on Meridia. She feels her eyes welling up as if she hadn’t cried enough already. “I’m _sick_ of you pretending you’re a force of good, pretending you’re still one of the Aedra. You use people against their will and you have _no_ concern for anything beyond your petty power plays.” She lets out a deep breath, and her anger along with it.

Meridia narrows her eyes. “Do not presume to know my intentions,” she warns.

Imaeya waves the warning away dismissively. “Or what? You’ll imprison me for an eternity in the most boring realm in Oblivion? Or you’ll torture me? Go ahead, I could do with some entertainment.”

There’s heavenly silence for a moment. Imaeya sighs and picks her book up.

“This will not do,” Meridia says with a commanding voice. Imaeya looks up at her, standing there regal and powerful. “Darien Gautier was a soldier. He followed orders because I had need of him. But you are something else entirely, Imaeya. I fear I can’t keep you shut up for an eternity.”

“You can’t keep _anyone_ locked up for an eternity,” Imaeya mumbles, turning a page. “It’s immoral to say the least, at worst downright cruel.”

“Perhaps... “ She hesitates, and it’s so out of character that Imaeya drops her book on her lap to study the Prince. “Perhaps I may let you return to Nirn periodically.”

Imaeya picks her book up again. “No.”

The silence stretches too long, and when Imaeya looks back, Meridia is gone.

She turns another page and pretends she’s anywhere but here.

 

* * *

 

_Darien Gautier always knew he would die heroically. The Divines gifted him with roguish charm and an appetite for adventure, and he knew that it would get him in trouble one day. He just never thought that he would die heroically twice._

_He sat in the Coloured Rooms, his hands shaking as he finished writing. Meridia stood before him, her hands on her hips. He could tell she was pleased with him, even if she refused to show it._

_He held the book out to her and it disappears in his hand._

_“You have served me faithfully, knight,” she said impassively._

_He waved away her compliment. “I didn’t do it for you.” Everything he did started to wear him down._

_Meridia continued to stare at him. “She defeated Nocturnal easily. Nirn has been saved once again.”_

_Darien closed his eyes and Imaeya was there, standing in front of him, fierce, bloodied, and triumphant. “Will she be okay?”_

_“She has lost too many people,” Meridia replied, her voice soft. “The Divines have plans for her still, as do I. Tamriel needs her more than ever. But she grows weary of the fighting. I fear she will give up when we need her most.”_

_Darien glared at her. “She won’t,” he said confidently. “She’s stronger than you give her credit for.”_

_Meridia shook her head. “She has lost more than she knows, Darien. She will find out before the end who she is and the prices she has had to pay. The blood on her hands will never dry.” She paused. “But she is beloved of the Divines, and of Tamriel’s people. Perhaps she will endure. I have underestimated her before.”_

_Darien scoffed. He looked down at his hands, but saw nothing. He was fading quicker than he had thought._

_“They’ll tell tales of me, right?” he asked her. “The dashing champion of Meridia?”_

_There’s no reply. He looked up, but Meridia wasn’t there. He really didn’t want to be alone when he faded away, and he took a deep, ragged breath._

_Every second that went by weakened him, and Darien was afraid. Afraid of what waited for him. Afraid that nothing waited for him._

_The darkness closed in around him again, more final than Nocturnal’s shadows._

_Darien took a deep breath. And then another. He could feel his lungs expanding and hear his heart beating. He opened his eyes and the darkness is gone._

_In front of him, in a dimly lit room with an oppressive statue of his Prince, was Imaeya. She held her staff in front of her, her body tense._

_He wanted to say something, even if it was just her name, but the air was so sweet to breath and his lungs were gasping for it._

_Imaeya lit the end of her staff and he managed a smile._

_“Darien,” she breathed. He wanted nothing more than to hear her say his name like that again. She dropped her staff and it rolled away from them._

_“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he croaked. His legs were weak and he struggled to stand upright._

_Imaeya rushed to his side and held him up with strong arms. He never appreciated how muscular she was until now. Her soft hands held his face gently, and those white eyes - that he had thought were so unnatural before, and were now the most beautiful he had ever seen - stared widely at him._

_Darien knew, staring into her eyes, the strongest person in Tamriel holding him up, that he was_ home. _That Imaeya had saved him, that all of Nirn was outside waiting for him._

_He pulled Imaeya close and rested his head on her shoulder, squeezing his eyes shut so no one would see his tears._

_“I knew you would get me out of there,” he murmured._

 

* * *

 

Imaeya can’t comprehend the passage of time. She was always terrible at it on Nirn, but in the Coloured Rooms she doesn’t need to eat or sleep, so there’s no reason to keep the time.

She knows it had been at least a year before she had regained her memories of her life before Mannimarco stabbed her through the heart with his dagger. She knows it was another year or two afterwards before her heart stopped aching when she thought of her family.

So it could have been months or it could have been years since Meridia last talked to Imaeya. But here she stands, facing her fireplace and staring into the flame.

Imaeya pauses in her chopping. “Can I help you?” she asks.

Meridia finally turns to face her. “I have recently discovered Aedric presence in my realm, though I could not pinpoint it until now.”

Imaeya consults her cooking book for a moment and puts the carrots into her stewpot. “Oh?”

“Mara has blessed you, Imaeya. Her presence in my realm is disconcerting, but it is nothing else. She is laying claim to your soul.”

Imaeya frowns. “Why would she do that?”

Meridia turns back to the fire. “The Divines have never invaded my realm before. They rarely act on Nirn. This is unprecedented.” She shakes her head. “Mara has laid claim to your soul because someone has petitioned her. It could be a family member, a close friend, or a lover.”

Imaeya stops what she’s doing and wipes her hands on her apron. “I don’t… I don’t have any of those.” Darien and Raz appear unbidden in her mind, and she swallows hard.

“Evidently, you do. I could choose to purge Mara’s presence from your soul. It would destroy much of you.” She tilts her chin up in thought. “Your memories, and your capacity to love.”

Imaeya doesn’t react. She continues making her stew. She doesn’t know how long she’s been here, but at this point her memories and emotions are a hindrance more than anything.

“If you do that, I would stop fighting you,” she murmurs. “I would be yours to command completely.” Her heart beats faster at the thought.

“And if I did not…”

Imaeya looks up abruptly, confused as to why she would even consider the alternative. “If you didn’t purge her from me, what would happen?”

Meridia turns to Imaeya, the reflection of the fire still alight in her eyes. “Mara’s hand would pull you from this realm, back into Nirn.”

Imaeya grips the counter tightly, looking down at her cookbook and seeing nothing. “Don’t play games with me, Meridia.”

“I don’t play games,” she answers distastefully. She holds out her hand, and a round crystal ball appears, levitating a few inches from her palm and spinning. The beacon Imaeya had taken from Orgnum’s dead body.

“This beacon, created from my Light, allows me to fill you with my power quickly. If you hadn’t retrieved it for me, I could have burnt your mortal soul up in my haste to procure a vessel.”

Imaeya nods, still staring down. She closes her eyes. “I know this.”

“If I were to send you to Nirn myself, you would possess a considerable amount of my Light. Not as much as Darien had, as he was my true vessel, but enough to be one of my Agents.” The beacon disappears as quickly as it had appeared. “But if I were to allow Mara to pull you from this realm, your soul would be naked and powerless. She could have taken you already, but she has given me a choice.”

Imaeya straightens. “What do you stand to lose if you keep me here?”

Meridia regards her impassively. “I stand to lose an opportunity to regain my standing with the Aedra.”

Imaeya blinks. “Excuse me? Did you just… You want to be one of the Aedra again?”

“My association with the Daedra lost me considerable power. The light of Aetherius is no longer mine to command, and I feel that loss keenly. The Aedra see me as a necessary evil. I have fallen from grace but my actions are for the good of Nirn.”

“And this would change that? Would they really allow you back into Aetherius just for returning me to Nirn?”

Meridia shakes her head. “No. I will never again return to Aetherius as an Aedra. But every so often the Aedra give me opportunities to prove myself worthy of their respect. When I take these opportunities, I find my power growing closer to what it once was.”

Imaeya scratches the back of her neck. “What are you saying? Are you going to return me to Nirn?”

Meridia gives her a graceful smile. “Of course. I maintain balance between Oblivion and Aetherius, as you do will continue to do on Nirn. But, as in all things, a price must be paid.”

Imaeya bites down on the _anything_ that rises from her throat.

Meridia tilts her head slightly. “Do you regret sacrificing your mortal soul to save Darien Gautier, now that you have lived in my realm?”

Imaeya shakes her head. “No. He shines with his own light now, and I feel I was always destined to an end like this.”

Meridia’s smile dims somewhat. “You are. I know the Divines have plans for you, and I know what price they might ask. It is the forsaking of Mundus. Your soul will remain untethered. You will continue to return to your body after death. But you know as well as I that this is more a curse than a blessing.”

Imaeya dips her head in agreement. She had felt it, towards the end. Every pull towards her dead body hurt more and more. One day it would be agony. One day she would return to her body and lose a part of herself. As scary as the finality of death was, she knew that something far worse was waiting for her.

And yet.

And yet she would see her loved ones again. She would live out her life, love and be loved, find her family and make her own. She could sit by the warmth of the fire and feel the rain on her face, argue with store owners and steal the lives of her enemies. She would live to fight another day.

“You have served me well, Imaeya. And you will continue to do so. But the Divines have need of you yet. Spend this time given to you to decide who you would rather have claim your soul. I would welcome you back into my realm readily.”

Imaeya gives the Prince her first smile. “Thank you, Meridia. No other Daedric Prince would do as you have done.” Gratitude felt clumsy on her tongue, but Meridia returns her smile.

“You have spent ten mortal years in my realm, but you have been absent from Nirn for only two weeks.” She waves her hand.

Imaeya drops to her knees. She’s breathing air once more, at once cleansing and cloying, filling her lungs and suffocating them. The air around her is cold, and a brisk wind caresses her skin. She squeezes her eyes closed, too afraid to open them, too afraid to see what she’s been wanting for so long.

“Imaeya,” Meridia says softly. “I will see you soon. You _will_ beckon my call as long as my Light resides inside of you. But you hold your own fate in your hands, as you always have done. Go now, and rest. Prepare. Oblivion isn’t done with you yet.”

Imaeya opens her eyes, and the first thing she sees is cobbled stone. She looks up, but there’s no sign of Meridia. In front of her lies a bustling city, dirty, loud, and full of awful smells. Daggerfall.

She looks down at her hands. Her tattoos curl around her arms as they always have, dark coils around her tanned skin

She slowly lays a hand on the ground. A few passerbys give her a second look, so she closes her eyes to ignore them.

At first, she feels nothing but the thrum of the city, the vibration from a cart rolling on the stones a few feet away, and panic almost makes her snatch her hand back.

She takes a deep breath and focuses. The sounds of the city fade away, and she’s left with silence. She waits for a moment, and then another. A whisper runs through her mind and she chases it.

And then the floodgates open. The Green welcomes her back, filling her head with whispers and stories they want her to tell. The whispers rise to a shout and Imaeya loses herself in it, letting them pass through her body.

"Well, I'll be damned," a familiar voice breaks in. The spell is broken, the Green retreats.

Imaeya opens her eyes to see a rough, battle-scarred Orc in front of her.

"Skord- _oof,_ " she starts, interrupted by a bone-crushing hug. She pauses for a moment. Being so physically close with another person was jarring after years of isolation. She squeezes him back tightly.

Skordo pulls away and smacks her on the shoulder, hard. "Last I heard, you let some slimy Maormer bastard get the better of you."

She frowns and rubs her shoulder. "He was a formidable opponent," she answers defensively.

Skordo smiles wide and throws an arm across her shoulders. "You know, I thought not even you could cheat death, but here we are.” He studies her for a moment. “I’m not going to ask you how you came back from the dead. I have a feeling you won’t want to tell the story twice.”

Imaeya breaks their stare and looks down at her feet. “No, I don’t,” she answers with quiet gratitude.

He starts to lead her down the street. "And I suppose I ought to thank you for fetching Darien from that witch, even if he's been a thrice-damned son of a hoarker since he's been back."

Imaeya tenses. "Is he okay? Where is he?"

Skordo shakes his head. "He's been crying into a tankard every night since he arrived. Fighting with Gabrielle every other day. We've been trying to find a way to find you, but reading isn't really my strong suit, so I've spent most of my time at the tavern.”

Imaeya lets loose a small sigh. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I… I didn’t mean to die,” she says dumbly.

Skordo snorts. “Are you sure? You’ve fought Daedric Princes. A Sea Elf has nothing on you.”

Imaeya shakes her head, but doesn’t explain further. She had been alone against Orgnum. She hadn’t realised before, but now she was acutely aware that the thing that made her heroic, that made her persevere against all odds, was her alliances. She never stood alone.

She knows with inexplicable certainty that she would never be alone again. Meridia’s Light resided within her. It doesn’t make her as queasy as it once would have.

Skordo stops, pulling Imaeya’s sleeve when she continues to walk down the street. She turns to face him, and then the building they had arrived at.

The Daggerfall Mage’s Guild loomed above them, cutting an imposing figure. It was almost a castle in its own right.

Imaeya follows Skordo to the door. When he raises his hand to open it, she grabs his arm.

“I…” Dread blocks her throat and she swallows down hard. She drops her hand, staring resolutely at the door handle. “Sorry,” she says weakly, clearing her throat.

Skordo shakes his head in exasperation. His sarcasm and gruff demeanour were a comfort to Imaeya as she stood before whatever awaited her on the other side of the door.

Skordo opens the door, and Imaeya peers over his shoulder hesitantly. She can hear Gabrielle’s voice, distinctly angry and rising in volume.

“-won’t work! We’ve been over this, Darien. One soul is _not_ equal to another, and you can’t just ‘find a weirdo’ and sacrifice his soul to Meridia!”

Skordo grumbles something under his breath and walks towards the voice.

There’s a table sequestered in a corner, Gabrielle standing over it menacingly while Darien sits on a chair, his arms crossed sullenly. Imaeya glances back at the door and wonders if she could reach it before they notice her.

“It was just a suggestion. None of your ideas have been particularly successful either, Gabrielle,” Darien shoots back. “‘Let's all hold hands and _pray_ ’,” he mocks. “‘Then afterwards we can sit in a circle and guilt-trip Meridia into giving our friend back’!”

Gabrielle pinches the bridge of her nose and takes a deep breath. Skordo stops and Imaeya walks into his back.

“You know, while you guys were whining at each other like a pack of harpies, I did your job for you,” Skordo announces proudly.

Imaeya bites her lip as Gabrielle whirls around, but she keeps her eyes on Darien. Darien, who stands and knocks his chair over. Darien, whose eyes refuse to let her go. Darien, who strides across the room and wraps her in his arms.

Imaeya sinks into the embrace, exhaling for the first time in what felt like years, resting her chin on his shoulder and closing her eyes.

She can feel his shoulders shaking and she squeezes him tighter.

“You came back,” he mumbles into her shoulder. His voice is quiet and shaking with emotion.

Imaeya presses a kiss to his shoulder, gentle and barely-there. “I came home,” she answers.

He pulls back, his eyes scanning her face frantically. She doesn’t know what he’s looking for, so she rests a hand on his cheek.

He leans in to rest his forehead against her and they breathe the same breath. She feels laid open and raw in front of him, those blue eyes staring at her for a moment before closing.

“Huh,” Skordo mutters. “How about that.”

Imaeya moves forward and kisses him. They pause together for a moment before he holds her closer, his hands coming up to hold her face. His kiss feels like the steady breeze on her skin, it feels like she’s being held together by his touch alone.

Imaeya breaks the kiss and opens her eyes. Darien stares back at her, his lips curving into a smile. She feels a deep desire in her stomach to kiss that smile, but she steps back and clears her throat.

“Well,” Gabrielle starts. “That was… somewhat expected.”

Imaeya glances at her and Gabrielle takes it as a cue to gently shove Darien out of the way, tackling Imaeya in a strong hug. “I’m so glad you’re alive! You have to tell me everything. How did you get out of there?”

Imaeya pulls away. “I guilt-tripped Meridia into letting me go?” she tries.

Her friends stare at her for a moment, waiting for her to laugh, but she stares back at them and shrugs.

“Wait - what?” Darien breaks in. “You-”

“I think I became friends with a Daedric Prince,” Imaeya explains.

Darien lets loose a disbelieving laugh. “Of course you did,” he says. “Of course you did.”

She shuffles on her feet awkwardly. “Well, someone asked Mara to rescue me.” She glances at Darien before settling her eyes on Gabrielle. “Meridia said she had claimed my soul. She returned me to Nirn herself.”

Gabrielle grins at Darien smugly. “So I was right,” she brags triumphantly. She turns to Imaeya. “I got Darien to pray to Mara. I mean I didn’t know you two were…” She gestures casually with her hand. “But it worked!”

Darien groans and scratches the back of his neck. “I’m never going to hear the end of it,” he grumbles.

Imaeya gives him a wide smile. “Thank you,” she says quietly, passionately. He looks up at her, his tired face holding all the hope and happiness Imaeya is feeling.

Darien grabs her hand. “Don’t do anything like that again.” He hesitates. “I… I couldn’t bear it- will you _stop_ , Skordo? I’m trying to have a moment here.” Imaeya glances at Skordo, who seems to have been pulling faces at Darien.

He rolls his eyes. “Oh it’s a real joy to have to listen to your _moment_ , Darien,” he grumbles sarcastically. “I’m going to the tavern.”

He glares at Gabrielle until she gathers herself and nods. “So am I,” she decides.

They leave Imaeya and Darien standing in the middle of the Guild hall. The moment they’re left alone - or as alone as they can be with a bunch of curious mages staring at them - Imaeya breathes out a small laugh and shakes her head. “It’s so good to be back,” she sighs. “Meridia was a terrible conversationalist.”

Darien tugs on her hand and leads her to the door. “Come on,” he says. “I don’t know about you, but being cooped up in a library full of stuffy mages and musty books is giving me a headache.”

Imaeya allows herself to be dragged out the door. They walk through the bustling crowd of the city slowly, as though they had all the time in the world, as though Darien knew that Imaeya would want to bask in the horrible smells and raucous violence of the city. Which she did, after the peace and quiet of Meridia’s realm.

They walk out of the gate, and Imaeya spots the forest of Daenia in front of them, an expanse of woodland that makes the Green sing in her heart. Darien sits her down on the top of a hill near the river and settles beside her.

“There’s something different about you,” he says after a comfortable silence.

Imaeya leans back on her arms and stretches her legs out in front of her. She takes a moment to order her thoughts. “I… I remember everything now.”

Darien turns his head to stare at her attentively. “You mean your life before you lost your soul?”

She nods. “Yeah. It’s strange. It feels like I’ve lived two lives, like I’m two distinct people.” She closes her eyes and tilts her head up to allow the sun to warm her face. “But now I’m neither.”

Darien doesn’t say anything for a while. She’s glad he isn’t pressing for more information. She had a lot of time to process her true self in Meridia’s realm, but now that she was back on Nirn, she wasn’t ready to share it.

“What do you want to do now?” he asks, an echo of a past conversation.

She smiles up at the sky. “I would like to rest,” she answers simply. She opens her eyes and turns to face him. “I want to stop moving for a while.”

He smiles back at her. “I think we can manage that.”

Imaeya gives him a soft, thoughtful look. “How long were you in the Coloured Rooms, Darien?” she asks gently.

His smile disappears. “I don’t know. It was kind of hard to tell.”

She doesn’t relent. “You would have had some idea.”

He sighs deeply and looks down at the river. “I don’t know,” he repeats. “It felt like an eternity. It felt like centuries.”

Imaeya grabs his hand before she can talk herself out of it. She’s still wrapping her head around the idea that she can have and offer these simple comforts. “I should have gotten you out of there sooner.” She squeezes his hand. “I’m so sorry, Darien.”

Darien gives her a half-hearted smile. “It wasn’t too bad, after a while. It was boring, but there are worse realms of Oblivion to be stuck in.”

Imaeya itches her leg idly where the grass had been tickling it. They fall into another comfortable silence, sitting close together with their hands touching. It was intimate, but not overbearing.

“So… what would your family think of me?” Darien teases, a not-so-subtle way of prying.

Imaeya shakes her head. “My family is dead. We were sailing from Alinor to Skywatch and the Sea Elves beset our ship,” she says softly. She can see Darien open his mouth to apologise - or to ask her more - but she gives him a small smile and continues. “But they wouldn’t have been impressed. In fact, my father would have disowned me.”

Darien nods. “Huh,” is all he says.

“I’m glad you’ll never meet him.” She stares at their hands resting in the grass. “He was horrible, really.” She smiles softly. “But my mother and my sister were strong and loving.”

He meets her eyes with an affectionate look. “Like you.”

“I…” She takes a deep breath. “I had time to reflect on who I had lost. Who I couldn’t stand losing.” Imaeya reaches over and places a hand on Darien’s cheek. She held no fear in her chest, no panic in her voice. Her words were calm and honest. “I love you, Darien. Auri-El preserve me, I really do.”

Darien’s hand grips her wrist, and he gives her a large smile, wide and happy. “It took you long enough,” he answers. “Honestly, Imaeya, you were the last one to figure it out.”

Imaeya rolls her eyes and goes to pull her hand away, but he holds her wrist tightly and laughs. “I love you too. In case you haven’t noticed.”

She leans forward and kisses him. She’s keenly aware of the Green whispering underneath her, the light breeze caressing her skin, the sun warming her, and Darien’s lips against hers. He buries his fingers into her hair and kisses her back. It feels like the steady promise of something new. It feels like the first sweet breath after drowning.

 

**Author's Note:**

> If you play eso and wanna chat in game, my username is @musichetta  
> Please let me know what you think of the fic!!  
> Also if you want to discuss my OC i always want to discuss her. I have a detailed backstory that i unfortunately decided to cut from the story but I'd be happy to share it so feel free to ask.  
> My [tumblr](https://montparn-asses.tumblr.com)  
> Update: I'm now writing another Vestige/Darien fic with my breton necromancer so stay tuned for that


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